Abnormalities
by quaylalouise
Summary: The war is finally won, those who slither in the dark are finally vanquished, and Claude is preparing to ascend the Almyran throne, but his mind keeps floating back to Petra, and he decides to pay her a surprise visit. However, shortly after his arrival, he finds that Petra's problems didn't end with the Battle at the Caledonian Plateau.
1. Final Goodbyes

On the day he was set to leave east for Almyra, Claude found his thoughts drifting to the west instead. As he woke early that morning, eating a hearty meal and preparing his wyvern for departure, he found his thoughts drifting back and forth between the two.

He made the rounds to all of his friends, promising to visit as often as possible. Byleth was first. She smiled her warm, still-surprising smile and said,

"It has been an honor fighting alongside you. You have been a fantastic fellow soldier, and an even better friend. Don't you dare forget to write!"

"At _least _twice a month, I promise." She kissed him on the cheek and pulled him in for a warm hug.

"Do you gotta leave so soon? We just got the gang back together!" Raphael slapped him on the back so hard that Claude expected to find a welt there later.

"W-_ahem._ Uh, we can have a grand reunion in Almyra, Raphael! Just give me a few months to get settled in."

"Why are you leaving so early if you don't get sworn in for, like, a year?" Hilda asked, slowly twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"I'd like to meet everyone that I am going to be living and working with, not to mention that I need to get to know my people again. I've spent so much time away from them."

"A noble pursuit, indeed," asserted Leonie, moving in for a hearty embrace. "Any king who gets to know even his common men is one fit to rule."

"That means a lot, Leonie. And I don't think I detected any trace amounts of sarcasm, either." She smiled sincerely, patting him on the shoulder, and then making way for the others.

"I hope you'll find your way into Ordelia territory every so often," said Lysithea, offering her hand for a firm handshake, which Claude used as leverage to pull her into a bear hug, lifting her several inches above the floor. "Excuse me!" He put her down, and she sighed. "At least it's gotten easier to get you to stop." He smirked and kissed the top of her head, and she offered a reluctant grin. Hilda stepped up next.

"Goneril territory is right next door to Almyra," she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "So you have no excuse not to come visit _me_."

"Neither do you."

"Well, not as far as _travelling distance_ goes, but-"

"It's alright, Hilda. I'll give you this one." A huge smile spread over her face.

"You're the best, Claude!" He gave her one last squeeze before saying,

"Keep an eye on Lorenz for me. I won't be around to keep him out of trouble." Lorenz audibly scoffed at this, but his happy countenance betrayed him.

"I will miss cleaning up after your ridiculous schemes, Claude." He offered his hand, and Claude took it gratefully, squeezing harder and harder until Lorenz awkwardly pulled himself away.

"Th-thank you for everything, Claude." The crowd parted for Marianne, who smiled shyly and walked forward towards Claude.

"I couldn't have made it this far without you, Marianne. I should be the one thanking you." He folded her up in his arms and held her tightly.

"I hope to see you soon," she said, a catch in her voice.

"You will. I'll make very sure of that. Your adoptive father is having you travel to the former Empire, correct?" She nodded, the power of speech apparently having left her for a moment.

"He wants me to represent the Edmund house in negotiations stemming from the fall of the Empire. It's far, but I promise to come visit."

"I will be holding you to that." He let her go, and took one last, long look at his group of friends. So many different personalities and walks of life, all come together for a collective purpose, and now breaking apart again. He was sad, but equally eager to begin this new chapter.

His final goodbye was with Judith.

"Make sure to visit now and then, kid. It's been nice having you around." He thanked her for her friendship and berated her for calling him kid.

"I know you're often busy, but you had better come visit me in Almyra. You'll be given the royal treatment." She laughed.

"I think I would be given some not-so-royal treatment if I declined." They embraced with difficulty, both pretending not to be as broken up as they were, and he mounted his wyvern and took off to the east, towards his new home.

But his thoughts were still elsewhere.

Every moment he felt himself gaining on Fódlan's Throat, and he considered turning around. _I meant to come early. I wanted time to settle in._ But his heart kept tugging him backwards, west, where he'd never been before.

It didn't take him long to turn his wyvern around entirely and set off in a completely new direction.

He didn't know the way to Brigid, but he figured it wouldn't be so hard to at least find one of the islands once he reached the ocean.

_I should probably tell someone that I am changing course._ Claude kept his eyes peeled for a large enough town for him to send a letter. He found one within the hour, and landed near the center of town. He decided to send a letter each to Judith and Hilda. _I have decided to visit Petra in Brigid for a few weeks or so, before I go to Almyra. I am going to ask her to marry me. I will keep you updated, and let you know when I have arrived in the capital. Talk to you soon._ He sealed the envelopes with the official House Riegan wax seal and dropped the letters into the dropbox, now deciding to look for a map to get better directions to Brigid's capital; he found one in the town square. Realizing that he was a good 40 degrees off course, and thankful that he had checked, he mounted his wyvern and set off in his new course.

_Maybe I should have sent her a letter, too. No, it wouldn't have made it in time anyway. _The bitter winds coming from the north of Faerghus whipped at his face for hours, forming little ice crystals in his beard, and in this weakened state, he felt a nervous knot forming in his stomach. _She's probably very busy preparing to ascend the throne. What if she won't see me?_ But he knew he was past the point of no return, and resigned himself to being excited to see her.

Petra had left Alliance territory shortly after the battle against Nemesis and the Ten Elites. It had been a hard goodbye, but she was eager to finally return to her homeland and see her family. Claude had promised her that relations between Fódlan, Almyra, and Brigid would never decay again like they had before. She had thanked him for his words, and then she had left. Claude had figured that that was the end for them, both with such important futures ahead of them, that he would visit Brigid occasionally and maybe she would visit Almyra, and that they would remain friends over a distance.

What he hadn't anticipated was his love for her growing more and more each day since then. He had already sent her letters, requesting that she not forget about him. He certainly could not forget her. At this pivotal time in his life, when he should be considering diplomacy and strategy, learning what had gone on in Almyra during his time away, his thoughts always drifted back to Petra, from her lengthy explanation about her special braids, to the kind words she had left him with shortly before they had battled Nemesis.

_I am normal in Brigid. You are… an abnormality… I am thinking that you will be a great king._

He pressed on, constantly scanning the horizon. He was eager to spot the shore, though he knew that several hours would pass before he could. At last, he spotted the first glimmers of the water. His cheeks grew warm and flushed. His heart began to beat faster. He was almost there.


	2. The Grand Tour

The blue sea, vast, endless, beautiful and brooding, seemed to go on _forever_, and Claude grew more impatient with every passing wave. He could not remember how long it would be before he would spot land, which only exacerbated the doldrums. Finally, he spotted the first of the islands, and his stomach began to tighten. His throat suddenly felt coarse and dry.

_I forgot to get a ring._ He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. _I can't believe I forgot to get a ring. She's never going to say yes now._ He briefly considered trying to buy one from a Brigidian shop, but he decided to let Petra pick out her own ring. _If she says yes, that is._

He began to pass the first island, and the next one was not far behind. This was the island with the capital. This was the island with Petra. Hopefully. He rehearsed what he was going to say to her in his head.

_You have a kind heart, and I have so much respect for your beliefs and ideals. You're a killer swordswoman. Wait, I can't say that, she'll think I mean she's a killer and she might take it as an insult. You're a… skilled swordswoman. Does that really need to be said while I'm proposing to her?_

All too soon, he spotted a sprawling city at the base of a small mountain covered in countless shades of green. The city was bursting with all different types of colors, all different styles of buildings, and a seemingly directionless road, but it somehow all melded into one cohesive, breathtaking city. He could understand why she had been so achingly homesick all these years. This place could make anyone homesick, even just a visitor.

_That has to be the palace._

At the highest point in the city was a colossal red and white stone structure, with the Brigidian flag adorning each tower and archway, and two at the front gate. There were dozens of glass ceilings and stone sculptures, covered in ivy, but Claude couldn't yet make out what the sculptures represented. There were three courtyards in the middle of each of the three large sections, and they looked positively overrun with different trees, flowers, and other plants that Claude had probably never seen before. He scanned for a stable to tie up his wyvern and, upon spotting one, began his descent.

As soon as he hit the ground, two knights hurried up to him and said something in Brigidian. Hoping they'd understand, he said,

"I am Claude von Riegan, former leader of the Leicester Alliance and current heir apparent to the Almyran throne."

"Hello, Your Majesty." They seemed to understand.

"Hello! I am here to visit Petra Macneary. She isn't expecting me."

"I will notify her of your arrival, and will find out if she is available to see you." He gulped.

"Thank you." The guard hastened into the castle, and Claude was left to gawk at the grand architecture before him. "We don't have lots of buildings like this in Fódlan."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Said the other guard.

"Certainly. I have finally seen for myself the lauded beauty of Brigid, both natural and manmade, which is quite a feat."

"Is it lauded? I am happy to hear that. I've never left the country, so I wouldn't know."

Claude was impressed with his command of the language, having never left the country, and he felt even more empathetic towards Petra for still not quite grasping it, try hard as she might.

"Does everyone speak the language of Fódlan this well here?"

"No, it's mostly unique to the military. We must be able to communicate with the great powers of the world."

"That is certainly true. I know nothing of your language, unfortunately, though not for lack of enthusiasm. Few people know the language over there even well enough to teach."

"That is a shame. But understandable."

"I hope that we can change that soon." Just then, the other guard returned.

"Lady Petra will see you now, in the Western Courtyard. Please follow me." Claude obeyed, following the guard though a large hallway on the left, and his heart began to quake in his chest. _I've done this all wrong. I arrived unannounced, with no ring, and I haven't even met her family._ He had no further time to change his mind, however, because he heard a pleasantly familiar voice exclaim,

"Claude!" He turned to see his beautiful old friend, smiling, holding out her hands and advancing.

"Petra!" He beamed automatically, and held out his hands as well. She took them eagerly.

"This is a wonderfully unexpected surprise! What brings you to Brigid?"

"I felt as though we had spent quite enough time apart, and that it was time to see you again." She pulled him towards her and squeezed him, _hard_, twisting the breath out of him for a blackened second.

"I wholeheartedly agree!" She let him go, and he took a large breath as subtly as he could. "How would you like a tour of the palace?"

"That would be great! What I've seen already is stunning."

"I'm happy to hear that! Let's start with this courtyard. I'm sure many of these plants are new to you."

"I think I've recognized maybe two or three. What is this flower over here?" He pointed to a flower with large red petals, small orange and yellow petals in between, and purple styles.

"They are called lasair. It means flame in our language. Lovely, yes?"

"Absolutely." She beckoned him to follow her to the other side.

"These trees are all indigenous to the mountain forests," she explained. "This one is my favorite. Do you see the tiny flowers?" Claude looked closely and found hundreds of bright blue, clover-like petals between the huge leaves.

"This is extraordinary."

"That's Brigid." Petra's smile was wide. "Let us move on to the next room." A guard pulled opened the giant wooden door for them, and Petra grabbed Claude's hand and pulled him through.

Inside was a long hallway, with many windows on the right side and doors on the left.

"This is the central main corridor. There is one for each of the three sections of the palace, and each one has its own dining hall and library. Only this one has a Great Hall, however." She led him through a gigantic set of open double doors, and Claude let out a gasp.

There were four floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows on each side, and each boasted its own unique scene. He gaped, not sure where to even start admiring.

"I won't bore you with the details on all of these," Petra started, "but this one is my favorite." She stopped in front of a depiction of a male and female hunter on horseback, taking down a black bear. "They are of different races, but they hunt together as equals." The man had burgundy hair and olive skin, and the woman had brown hair and dark tan skin. "It has inspired me since I was old enough to understand it. This window represents my dream for this world." She gave Claude a meaningful look.

"I love it. That's a wonderful dream, Petra."

Her eyes sparkled with determination.

"I plan to make it happen, Claude." Claude felt her gaze pierce straight into his soul.

"I do too, Petra." He met her gaze confidently, and then she said,

"Let us continue." They left the Great Hall and continued down the corridor. "Are you hungry?"

"I could certainly eat."

"Wonderful!" She grabbed his arm and led him through a door on the left. Inside was a large dining hall, rather similar to the one within Garreg Mach, except the walls were made of red and white stone, and the kitchen appeared to be in another room, connected by a swinging door.

"The special today is a traditional game stew. I am unsure which meat they have used today, but it is sure to be delicious. We employ the best cooks in the capital."

"I can't wait to try it." Until he smelled the savory aroma wafting through the hall, he hadn't realized how hungry he actually was. How long had it been since he had eaten?

"You sit here, and I will grab our meals." He sat at the end of one of the tables and took in his surroundings. It was late in the afternoon, so the hall was mostly empty. He noticed a group of four or five at the end of the next table, chatting and laughing, undoubtedly having finished their meals a while ago. A couple minutes passed, and Petra returned with two large wooden bowls on a wooden platter.

"You are in for a treat. It is venison today!" She placed the tray on the table and set a bowl of stew in front of Claude. He waited for her to be seated, then grabbed a spoon and dug in.

"This is _amazing_, Petra. I have never had a stew like this. What is the secret?"

"I am not a cook, but I love how the potatoes compliment the meat. And I have heard that they add dark ale to the stock to tie together the flavors."

"I will have to get a recipe for this. You must introduce me to the chef!" Petra laughed.

"Of course," she said, flashing another delighted smile at him. Claude took quite a few more bites before speaking, entranced by this delectable new recipe.

"You seem to have a much better command of this language," Claude observed between large spoonfuls of stew.

"I am so happy you noticed. Becoming ruler of Brigid in this new era, I could not tolerate a mediocre command of of it any longer. I hired a tutor!"

"That's great, Petra! It has really worked for you. I haven't heard a single mistake since I arrived."

"I am eager to start a new age of peace and friendship. I have enacted a policy in which all knights are required to learn the language of Fódlan. I hope it will make diplomatic relations that much easier."

"That is a fantastic idea," Claude said with his mouth full.

"As soon as I find someone who is willing to teach us Almyran, then we will be adding that language to our repertoire, as well." Claude finished chewing and swallowed before replying, this time.

"That really is quite noble of you, Petra."

"Our people must be able to communicate if they are ever to become friends. We can't just stop at the nobility." Claude noticed that Petra had stopped eating.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes. I just get very excited, talking about the future. I think we have a great chance here to eradicate xenophobia."

"It is an exciting time, isn't it?" She smiled again.

They made lighter conversation for the rest of the meal, and then Petra announced that they were to continue the tour.

"This door leads to the East Wing," she said as another guard opened the door for them. "This is the wing that I live in, as well as my grandfather and a few other members of our family, though I am the only one here at the moment. My grandfather has left the palace in my care to attend a festival on another island, and has taken the family with him. Now that I am home, he is able to much more often!" They continued walking as Petra pointed out the places of interest: the East Library, the Eastern Tower, workers' quarters,

"Almost as nice as my own; we treat our help well."

They reached a crossroads: a set of stairs forward, and another hallway the left. Petra ascended the stairs to another hallway, continued walking for a spell, and then stopped in front of an intricately carved set of wooden double doors, painted with many different colors. There was a knight guarding the door, and he nodded to Petra before opening it.

They walked inside, and Claude's jaw dropped faster than he had previously thought possible. It was a spacious living area, with glass ceilings and a glass wall in back, overlooking what Claude assumed was the Eastern Courtyard. There was a giant glass chandelier in the front middle of the ceiling, and many small metal ones strewn about the rest of the room. The furniture was all wooden with plush orange, white, and green upholstery

"This is amazing."

"Isn't it? I am so very fortunate to enjoy this room every day." She took a seat in a large recliner. Claude sat down on the couch opposite her, and he immediately felt his body relax.

"Okay, this is the most comfortable couch I have ever sat in. What are these cushions made of?"

"I am not sure. But I will ask around and let you know!" She shifted in her seat, brushed off the front of her dress, and looked up at Claude. "Claude, why did you really come here?" _Uh-oh._

"I told you, I just really wanted to see my old friend. Plus, I wanted to have a look at Brigid with my own eyes, and now I know that you were not exaggerating its beauty."

"Brigid needs no exaggeration! But that does not seem like enough of a reason. Why didn't you send a letter?" He gulped.

"I had only decided to come at the very last minute. I was actually on my way elsewhere, and changed course shortly after leaving. I knew that no letter would beat my wyvern and me here."

"I guess that makes sense." Claude gulped and steeled himself.

"Petra, I-"

"Wait." She held a finger to her lips. Claude listened, but he couldn't hear anything. She waited several seconds before saying, "Show yourself." There was no answer. Petra stood, and Claude followed suit. "Show yourself at once."

Suddenly, a mass of black leather armor leapt out of the potted tree next to Claude's couch and beelined towards Petra. She blocked his blow with so much force that he bounced off of her and fell onto his back. Petra quickly unsheathed her sword pointed it at him.

"Who are you working for?"

"I'll never tell you!" He rolled under the coffee table. Claude saw him pull out a dagger.

"Petra, look out!" He moved to pull out his own dagger, but the man quickly exited from the other side and rolled towards Petra, dagger in hand. She grabbed his wrist and tried to wrest the blade from his grip, but to no avail. As the man reached for another weapon, Petra stuck her blade into his abdomen. Blood quickly stained his shirt and spilled on the floor. She pushed him away from her and kept a defensive posture until he fell to the floor, dead. Deafening silence filled the room. After just a moment, Claude spoke.

"Petra, are you okay?" Claude ran to her side. She brushed herself off and inspected her body.

"I don't think he injured me." She sighed.

"This is not good. Was that man an assassin?" Claude felt adrenaline flooding his veins, and tightened his grip on his dagger.

"It is okay, Claude. You can put that away. They come alone." He looked at Petra. Her face was solemn, sad, even.

"What do you mean?"

Petra sighed again. "This man was not the first assassin to jump out at me today. I have no idea how they have been getting in here."

"Wait, this guy _wasn't _the first?"

"No. He is the fifth."

"Petra, that's not good!"

"They haven't been very skilled, Claude." She pulled a rag out of her pocket and cleaned the blood from her blade.

"But he almost killed you!"

"No, Claude. I was only struggling to subdue him without killing him." She put the rag back in her pocket and sheathed her sword. "The first assassin came to me in the early hours of the morning. I was relaxing on the sofa when I heard a floorboard creak, and I knew that I was supposed to be alone. He was terrible at sneaking, but he would not surrender. I had to kill him." Petra's expression darkened even more.

"I was very surprised when the second one came, but he was just as inept as the last, and also unwilling to yield. I was forced to kill him as well." She sighed once more, then shook her head and lightened her expression. "The third one was not as surprising. At this point, I had figured there was a bounty of some sort on my head. But for only low level, unskilled assassins to be pursuing it, and all in one day… It doesn't really make sense. It is widely known that I am a skilled assassin myself." She shifted her feet uncomfortably. "It just feels...off."

Adrenaline beginning to subside, Claude sheathed his dagger, hands shaking. He still had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Do you know why they are after you?"

"I have no idea. The language policy has been the only piece of legislation I have openly passed. I doubt anyone would be so angry about that as to send assassins after me."

"I agree. Is there anything else? Any personal enemies? Spurned lovers?"

"Nothing of the sort. Anyway, the people of Brigid must be hard-pressed to hold a grudge or a vendetta."

"Maybe he has some clues on him." Claude knelt down at the man's side. "Sorry, buddy, but we need some answers." He opened up his jacket to access the inside pockets. All he found was a note written in Petra's language.

"What does it say, Princess?" She took it from him and read it. Her brow furrowed.

"It is an assassination order."

"Lovely."

"It doesn't say who ordered it. But I can tell from the dialect that the author is from the southern islands."

"I guess that's something." He sighed. "Barely."

"I must go there and ask around. I will gather my things." She began to walk towards the double doors to the side of the windows.

"Wait!" He grabbed her arm. "This may not be a good idea. If someone there wants you dead, isn't that the last place we want you to be?"

"It will be harder for them to send assassins while I am traveling. I will take an indirect route. But I must get to the bottom of this. Someone is sending these men to their deaths on purpose, and I cannot stand for that." Claude saw the resolve in her eyes. He sighed.

"At least let me come with you."

"I will allow it." She smiled. "Now, let me gather my things and we can leave within the hour." She disappeared behind the doors, and Claude waited for her on the comfortable couch, his stomach churning again, but for new reasons.

_Sadly, now really isn't the time to propose. Perhaps once we solve this mystery._

"Don't look so sad, Claude. I'm sure we can figure this out together."


	3. Old Friends

After about fifteen minutes, Petra emerged from the doorway with a small trunk.

"I am ready to go. We can walk to the docks; they aren't far from here."

"I actually thought we could take my wyvern. It'll be faster, and I'd hate to leave her here all alone."

"I'd love to! I've only ridden on a wyvern's back a handful of times."

She led him to the stables and they secured her trunk to the wyvern's back. Petra threw herself elegantly onto the saddle as if she had done so a thousand times, and Claude climbed up in front of her.

"You'll have to tell me which way to go." He put his gloves back on and buttoned his coat.

"You'll follow the mountain range to begin with," Petra said before pulling her scarves over her mouth.

With a running start, they took off, leaving Petra's home after only a couple hours. _Hopefully we will be back soon._ But he still had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Just one assassination attempt would be cause for concern. But five in one day? They may not be skilled, but someone clearly has poor intentions towards Petra. _He looked down and noticed her arms around his waist, and her head resting against his back, and he felt his mood lighten a little bit. He decided to focus on that feeling to keep his calm.

The view of the islands from the sky was breathtaking. Claude hadn't had many chances to fly over the ocean before, and all of the land was full of color and life, even from up high. He decided that he must come back here every so often, even if Petra said no to his proposal. He knew he would miss these lands' unique beauty.

"Keep going past this island. It is the smaller one, south of here. Follow the coastline." He did as he was told, and as they rounded the edge of the island, their destination came into view. It was almost completely covered in forest, from what Claude could see. There were no obvious cities in view, either.

"What's the story with this place? Is it not civilized?"

"It is. The cities are in the trees. There are many dangerous creatures that make life on the ground treacherous. Soon you will see a large wooden bridge. Head there." Claude followed her advice, decreasing speed as they descended towards the tree line. "There's a storm rolling in from the west." Claude looked to the west and sure enough, there were dark clouds churning up the seas, heading their way.

"We will have to stay the night," Claude said. "Or get totally soaked and risk getting hit by lightning." Once he broke the canopy, he saw the bridge in full view, as well as hundreds of tree dwellings that had been invisible from the sky. "Pass the city and head towards the southern coast." Claude kept to the canopy and obeyed. After a few minutes, he spotted a small treehouse. Connected by small rope bridges were a stable and a small wyvern runway, as well as what Claude assumed to be a forge, with smoke rising from the chimney.

"Land there." Claude had to slow his wyvern quickly to make it onto the narrow runway, but he was successful and they landed, albeit roughly. He tied up his wyvern in the stables.

"So, where are we?"

"A friend's house. I didn't think we should use the runway in town."

"Good call. So, who's the friend?" Petra's answer was interrupted by a low, husky voice coming from the main house.

"Petra!" Her figure was overcome with a large, muscular, male figure, with many marks just like Petra's, who, in one fluid motion, picked her up and twirled her around in a circle, placing her back next to Claude.

"And who is your friend?" The man asked in a thick, Brigidian accent.

"This is Claude von Riegan," she replied, glowing with excitement.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," said Claude, bowing. "And you are?"

"Claude, this is my childhood friend, Orin Bourke." Orin grasped Claude's outstretched hand firmly and shook it.

"The pleasure is mine. Any friend of Petra's is a friend of mine." Orin's dark eyes shone as they settled on Petra.

"I feel the same way." Claude felt the buzzing of a dozen bees beginning to overtake his stomach. _This guy is no joke._

"How did you meet Petra?" Orin asked, while still looking at her.

"We both attended the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach, oh, over five years ago now. And then Petra joined the Alliance's cause during the war. She's incredibly skilled." Petra laughed, taking a step back.

"Claude's archery skills far exceed my swordsmanship. You should see what he can do on his wyvern."

"I will have to someday," said Orin, putting an arm around each of them. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit today?"

"We have business in town," Petra chimed in, looking meaningfully at Claude.

"I was visiting Petra at the palace, and she's giving me the grand tour of Brigid."

"I'm delighted that you decided to stop here!" Orin clapped Claude on the back, angering the welt from Raphael's similar maneuver the day before. Petra spoke up.

"There is a storm coming, probably within the hour. Would you mind if we stayed here for the night?"

"Of course not! I'll help carry your things to the guest room." He led Claude and Petra into the main house. Inside was an open common area, not nearly as grand as Petra's, but just as cozy. The room was octagonal in shape, with windows covering seven of the eight walls, and there was a cushy chaise attached lengthwise to one of them, complete with a built-in side table adorned with a steaming cup of tea. There was a fireplace next to the table, looking like it hadn't been used in quite some time. On the other side was a kitchen, with a long counter, a wood burning stove, and a small dining table with four chairs. In the middle of the room was a spiral staircase leading upwards, and a trapdoor leading downwards.

"You have a lovely home," remarked Claude. Orin laughed.

"Thank you! It's not much, but I wouldn't change a thing." They made their way upstairs, and Claude heard the wind pick up, disturbing a wind chime somewhere outside.

"Sounds like the storm is just about here," he said.

The stairs led to a trap door, and the door opened to a bedroom, with four small beds and night tables, and a door at the back that presumably led to a lavatory.

"Do a lot of entertaining?"

"Lots of storms in this area, and lots of friends from far away who got tired of sleeping on the floor!" Orin let out another booming laugh, and Claude let himself laugh too. _He's charming,_ he noted reluctantly. "Take whichever beds you'd like." _So she's staying in this room, at least._

"Where is your bedroom, Orin?"

"The bottom floor," Orin replied.

"He wants to be the first thing his intruders meet," recalled Petra with a giggle. "He's quite skilled with a rapier himself."

"Petra overstates my abilities! But yes, I'd rather know right away about any unwelcome guests, before they've gotten into my food stores!" Orin let out another guffaw just as a huge crack of thunder shook the house. Claude jumped.

"I guess the storm is finally here," he said, slightly shaken. He also noticed how dark it had gotten since they came inside. Moments later, the rain began pounding on the roof; the guest room being the top floor, it was especially loud.

"Let us have some dinner in the kitchen," Orin said. "It is quieter down there." He led Petra and Claude back downstairs and lit a couple of mounted gas lamps. "Now, let's see what we have. Some potatoes, some onions, some fish. How about a fish fry?"

"That sounds delicious! I'll help you with the cooking." Petra opened a closet and pulled out a large skillet, placing it on the stove.

_She knows her way around here._

"Can I help at all?" Claude asked, knowing the answer.

"We've got it covered," said Petra, taking his arms with both of her hands. "Go relax on the sofa over there. It's even more comfortable than mine! Dinner will be ready shortly." Claude sauntered over to the sofa and got comfortable. _If anything, it's _as _comfortable as yours, Petra. _Outside, the rain was vigorously spattering against the windows, and the sky had grown as dark as night. _It must be close to nighttime anyway,_ he realized. He watched the rain for a few minutes. Petra brought him a cup of tea.

"It's a special blend from Brigid! I'm sure you'll like it." The tea was very floral, but not _too_ floral, with just a hint of citrus, and Claude enjoyed it immensely. With his hot tea in hand, watching the rain, cozied up on the sofa, Claude felt himself dozing off.

Before he knew it, he felt Petra shaking him awake.


	4. Lamentations

"Wake up, weary traveler. Dinner is ready!" _Where am I? _Claude wondered, disoriented. _Oh, right. Petra's hunky friend's house._ He rose from the sofa, slightly grumpy, and followed Petra to the dining area. The air thick with the delicious smell of fried fish and vegetables, as well as the comforting aroma of scented wax. Orin had apparently lit a few candles in addition to the lamps.

"Dinner smells amazing," Claude declared, frothing at the prospect of another satisfying meal after his long day.

"Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells!" Orin boomed again, punctuating with another guttural laugh. Claude took a bite, and regretted to admit that it was delicious. _He really knows his way around a kitchen._ He looked up at Petra, who was enjoying her meal voraciously. She took a drink, and Claude realized that he had a drink in front of him, as well. He picked up the cup and looked inside. The liquid was dark red, and he detected the unmistakable dryness of tannins. He took a sip of the wine, and it was, of course, delicious. _And it somehow goes great with the fish despite being red. Is there anything this guy doesn't do perfectly?_

Petra finished her wine, and helped herself to another glass. Claude asked for a cup of water instead.

"Of course! You must be thirsty after all that travel." She filled a glass with water from the sink and handed it to him. He took a sip and by Gods, it was the tastiest water he had ever had. _Alright, who does this fellow think he is?_

Claude was the last to finish his dinner, and once he had, Orin announced that he was retiring to bed.

"I will cook you both a wonderful breakfast tomorrow before you head out!" With that, he shook Claude's hand and kissed Petra on the head. "Please, don't hesitate to knock on the door if you need anything. Sleep well." And he disappeared down the trapdoor.

"He seems like a good man," Claude remarked.

"He is. And he loves entertaining company, despite the size of his home." She looked around, from the sink, to the pantry door, to the fireplace. "It has been a long time since I have been able to visit. I'm glad we got this opportunity."

"So exactly how long have you two known each other?" _Am I fighting a losing battle here?_

"Oh, since I was a child. About four years old, if I am not mistaken. I think there's not a thing about me that he does not know at this point."

"I'm sure there's _something_ he doesn't know."

"I'm not sure!"

"Come on. Tell me one thing he doesn't know about you."

"Hm…" Petra thought for a few moments. "He doesn't know that I was kissed for the first time while I was a vassal in Enbarr."

"Ooh, juicy!" Claude said in a ridiculous voice, making Petra laugh. "Tell me more."

"There's really not much to tell. I was 14 years old, and there was a serving boy there who had taken a liking to me. He surprised me with a kiss one day while we were tending the gardens. Unfortunately, I did not feel the same way, so I declined his advance."

"I would have never pegged you for a heartbreaker!"

"It was one heart!" Petra laughed again, putting Claude's mind at relative ease once more. _First kiss. _He felt his jealousy shrink ever so slightly.

"When did you have your first kiss, Claude?"

If Claude had been drinking tea, he would probably have spat it out. "Me?"

"Is there another Claude here? Or anyone, for that matter?"

"_Ahem_, I guess not." He felt himself scratch at his forearm. "It's not a very flattering story. I was just a little younger than you were; twelve, I think, and in a pretty similar situation, now that I think about it. There was a girl that I always played with when we were younger. Once we started getting older, I developed a big crush on her. At one point I, uh, dared her to kiss me. Double-dog dared."

"A dare! That is even worse than mine!" Claude's face turned red.

"A _double-dog_ dare. And that... is subjective. Anyway, she did it, but she didn't actually reciprocate my feelings. She was just oblivious, as kids usually are. When I realized her feelings were strictly platonic, I was too embarrassed to hang out with her anymore. We drifted apart after that."

"That's sad. Do you regret it?"

"Not at all. She wasn't really a good fit for me, looking back. I was just a stupid kid. When you're a kid and you have your first taste of love, all you can think about is love, so you try to place it where it doesn't belong."

"That may be true. And yet…" Petra paused for a moment. Claude looked up to see her staring at the storm. "I think children deserve more credit in that regard. Kids know how to love something or someone unconditionally. We forget that when we grow up, and we have to relearn it."

"You've thought about this before?"

"More or less." She turned to face Claude again. "Childhood is a fleeting gift. Sometimes, I dream that on some birthday when I was small, all time had stopped. My father is still here, and my mother, too. I never went to Enbarr, and the war never happened. And all those terrible things Edelgard went through…" Claude could see Petra's eyes turn red and puffy. He laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

"There's many things I wish never had happened, either." Petra gave a sad smile.

"I knew you'd understand." She sniffed and pulled out a handkerchief. "You are beholding a rare sight. I pride myself on my ability to keep my emotions inside. Even Orin has only seen my tears once or twice." Claude rubbed her shoulder comfortingly with his fingers. "I have often wondered, since that day in the Holy Tomb, if I made the right choice." Her eyes dulled. "I had heard stories whispered around the palace about what they did to Edelgard when she was small. She used to have many siblings, you know. Those who slithered in the dark took them all from her."

"I think I heard something to that effect."

"I felt guilty abandoning her, even though I disagreed with her choices. She had good reasons behind her ideals, and I did not disagree with what she believed in. But imperialism? Invasions? These were methods I was raised to condemn. And so I said 'no.'" Petra sighed a long sigh. "I just... wonder," she said slowly, thoughtfully, "if there could have been another way."

"I don't think there was," Claude replied after a moment. "Edelgard was determined to change the world the only way she knew how. She knew that failure meant death, but she was never going to compromise. She knew she would lose many of her school friends, and she accepted that she may have to walk her path alone. I don't think she resented you or anyone else for siding against her." He stopped speaking and realize that Petra had moved into a soft cry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Don't worry. Your words have helped. These are mostly grateful tears." She sniffed and wiped at her nose again with the handkerchief. "Most people don't have to make such weighty decisions in their lives. Sometimes I envy that. But I wasn't born into that life." She sniffed one last time and put her handkerchief away. She sat up straight and stared directly through Claude's eyes. "I was born to speak on behalf of Brigid. To make the bigger countries hear us. To increase our power, but to use it well. I haven't lost sight of my goal." She smiled, and the light returned to her eyes. _There she is._

"You have made great strides in all of those things, Petra. It's amazing what you've been able to do, with all of the odds stacked against you." Petra looked down and smiled.

"I wish I could take the credit. But it's because of you and our friends that I was able to do all that I have done."

"I believe you deserve _much _more of that credit. One in your predicament could have lain down, accepted their fate, and waited for the storm to pass, and no one would have blamed you. You did no such thing. You constantly trained and studied, and you didn't hold your position against anyone at the academy. You could have been bitter and cold, and no one would have blamed you. But you chose to make friends instead."

"I suppose you may be right."

Petra rose from her seat. "Thank you for your kind words, Claude. It will make sleeping tonight much easier." Claude rose as well.

"It has been a long day, so I think I will retire, as well."

"I can imagine," she said as they blew out all of the lights and made their way upstairs. "Your trip from Derdriu must have been long."

"It wasn't so bad. I got to fly over the ocean, which is… kinda boring. But sometimes it was fun, like when I saw a whale, or… when I finally spotted land." She held the trapdoor open for him, and they climbed onto the top floor.

"A whale! That is a rare treat indeed." Petra claimed the last window bed on the right, and Claude took the one adjacent to the foot of hers, but moved the pillows to the other side so they could face each other as they talked. "They don't usually venture close to shore, so even for Brigid natives, sightings are scarce."

"I feel fortunate to have caught a glimpse," Claude said, stretching out on top of the covers. He glanced out the windows. The storm was still raging strong, and for the first time, he felt the house shake a bit. "Are we safe in these tumultuous conditions?"

"Oh, yes. All of the structures on this island were built to withstand mighty storms. That was a quick realization for the early settlers." Petra sat on the long edge of her bed. "I do not wish to sleep in my travel clothes. Would it offend you if I changed into some sleep clothes?" She motioned to the lavatory.

"Oh, not at all. I might have to do that as well." As Petra disappeared behind the door, Claude opened his pack and searched for something decent to wear. I didn't anticipate Petra seeing me in my pajamas. After several minutes of looking, Petra emerged in a light green linen nightgown. Of course she looks beautiful in her pajamas.

"Claude, didn't you pack sleep clothes?"

"Ugh. Yes. But the thought of you seeing me in any of these is utterly humiliating."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Well, they're pajamas, for one. Men don't get cute dresses like girls do."

"You could wear something attractive if you wanted to." There was laughter in her eyes.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No! No… A little."

Claude sighed, and pulled out the least offensive set, a mustard linen shirt with ill-fitting woolen trousers, and trudged over to the lavatory.

After a few minutes, he emerged.

"You are not allowed to laugh." Petra turned around and immediately stifled a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Now what's wrong with those?" She asked through her fingers.

"That's it, I'm sleeping outside."

"Oh Claude, they aren't that bad." She stood up to get a good look at him. "It wouldn't be so bad if they fit you correctly. How long have you had these?"

"Oh, since before my academy days, for sure."

"Well, you can hardly blame the clothes, then, can you?" She laughed again, and after her tears at the dinner table, Claude was glad to see her happy, even if it was at his expense.

"I guess that's fair. Have you gotten it all out of your system?"

"I think so," she said, with one last giggle. She retreated to her bed and Claude sat down at the edge of his, looking out the window again.

"I am oddly excited to watch this storm pass over us. I have never slept in a tree before."

"I know," Petra said, grinning.

"Oh, right. Heh." Claude remembered startling Petra during one of her post-climb naps. "And you have many times."

"I have. Not usually in a house like this, though, and certainly not usually during a storm."

"Oh, they don't have these houses on your island?"

"There are a few, but we have no real need of them. Our ground wildlife is not as dangerous." Claude wondered if he would recognize any of these predators on sight."I'm surprised the villagers haven't hunted them to safer numbers," he commented. Petra sat up.

"We have respect for nature. This was their home first. It would be wrong to kill them simply for living here." A fire lit behind her eyes. Her brow furrowed.

"I didn't mean to offend! I feel the same way. But usually that is the case with places like this."

"I suppose that is probably true. I sometimes forget that not everyone shares our respect for the earth."

"I felt constantly reminded of that fact in Fódlan. I guess it would be easier to forget when everyone around you also believes that way."

They were silent for a few minutes, watching the storm. Claude found the unique view from the canopy of the forest fascinating, though it really wasn't all that different from watching the storm at ground level. The leaves blocked some of the downpour, but the rain that made it through fell in large, heavy sheets. Claude watched as the sheets exploded against branches, trunks, and eventually the ground.

"I didn't expect this to be so mesmerizing."

"I suppose I have gotten used to it. Now that I think about it, though, I remember finding it interesting my first couple visits here." First couple. Claude sighed a bit louder than he intended, but Petra didn't seem to notice. She rubbed her eyes and let out a long yawn.

"I am exhausted. I think I will turn out the light now." She blew out the lamp she had brought upstairs. "Good night, Claude."

"Good night, Petra." Claude lay staring at the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into? This is totally crazy. I can't believe I was in Derdriu this morning. Claude recalled the events of the day, from the goodbyes to the eight-hour flight, to the spectacular landing, to how lovely Petra was when he finally saw her for the first time. Then to the assassination attempt, the hurried flight, the meeting of Petra's annoyingly hot best friend, and then, finally, to this foreign bed in a stranger's house. This may be the biggest adventure I've ever been on by the time I'm done.

"Claude..." Was she still awake?

"Petra?" Claude sat up and looked over at her, but her eyes were closed and her breath was even. She was asleep. That's sweet. She's thinking of me. Hopefully all good things. Claude couldn't help but smile as he rolled over. He fell asleep watching the storm.


	5. A Morning Stroll

Claude woke in the morning to a large crack of thunder. He opened his eyes and saw the skies still churning in the warm, dim light of day. It was even more fascinating than it had been the night before. He glanced over to Petra's bed to see that she had already awoken. _What time is it?_ He gathered his day clothes and knocked on the lavatory door, then went inside to change.

When he emerged, Petra was just peeking out from the trapdoor. "There you are! Breakfast is ready." Claude noticed the smell of fried bacon in the air, and his stomach groaned loudly. "Perfect timing?" She asked with a laugh.

"Yeah, I just woke up. I'll meet you down there." Petra closed the door behind her, and then Claude deposited his sleep clothes into his pack. She had left her things up here, so Claude did the same, arranging them neatly. He went downstairs.

Claude was immediately bombarded with an even stronger scent of bacon, plus fried potatoes and eggs, and a tangy aroma he couldn't identify. Orin was making up plates while Petra filled glasses with and orange juice.

"What is that? It smells amazing."

"Orange juice!"

"Man, you ask a stupid question-"

"No, that is really what it's called. Surely you've at least heard of oranges?"

"Yes, yes, but it smells like there's something else in it."

"We mixed it with champagne. We've heard it called mimosa!"

"Wow." The idea of a breakfast cocktail amused Claude. He surveyed the table. "Breakfast looks wonderful, you guys."

Orin beamed. "Thank you, Your Highness! I hope it meets your expectations."

"You can call me Claude. I'm not one for formalities."

"Claude, then! Come, let's eat." Claude took his seat and tried the mimosa first. The champagne flavor was subtle, but it went perfectly with the orange juice. He made a mental note to keep this recipe for himself. He gobbled up his bacon and eggs and surveyed the situation.

_I may be fighting a losing battle here. I have no idea what the nature of their relationship is. _Claude scratched at his arm and kept his eyes on his food. _I have to ask her. But I don't want to tip her off to the proposal. _He glanced at Petra. She glanced back and smiled, which Claude returned automatically.

"So Claude," Orin began, mouth half full of food. "What do you think of Brigid so far?" He and Petra both waited eagerly for his response.

"It's been wonderful, of course. It's so beautiful here, everywhere you look. And, of course, getting to see Petra hasn't been too terrible either." A smile pushed its way through Petra's full mouth. She swallowed before responding.

"So you're glad you came?"

"Well, my trip isn't over yet, but I have a good feeling about the rest," he said, with a subtle smile to himself.

When they were finished eating, Claude looked out the kitchen window to see the rain still going strong, although the wind seemed to have died down, and he hadn't heard much in the way of thunder this morning.

"Man, the flying conditions out there are still awful," he commented.

Petra frowned. "That won't do. We have to get going."

"Is that even possible? What can we do if we can't fly?"

"Well, there is the ground," said Orin with a laugh.

"Petra said the forest floor is too dangerous. You said that, didn't you, Petra?" Claude shifted in his seat.

"Yes, too dangerous for families, and people who are untrained in combat and hunting. I wouldn't say that we have that problem; would you, Claude?" He shifted once again in his seat.

"No, I wouldn't say so. I just didn't understand-"

"I didn't explain it very clearly. But there is the issue of your wyvern. Will she be okay staying here?"

"She can follow us just below the canopy. It will be much easier for her to navigate herself without us hindering her agility. I have a whistle that I can blow when I need her to come back down. Otherwise, she'll make herself comfortable somewhere up there."

"I guess this is the plan, then. Claude, are you sure you are comfortable with this?"

"Not totally, but it seems as though it is our only option."

"I think so, too. So, shall we pack our things?" Petra rose from the table, followed closely by Claude and Orin.

"Claude, I have something I'd like to give to you. We will meet you upstairs, Petra." What could Orin possibly have to give him? Claude followed him down to the bottom floor. The bedroom was just as cozy as the other rooms. The bed lined one of the walls, with an end table on the side and a footlocker at the end. There were various similarly-built recliners, a couch, a fireplace, and a few bookshelves at the end of the room, which was where Orin headed once they made it downstairs. He grabbed a dusty green tome from the shelf and handed it to Claude.

"I think you're going to need this. Check out chapter seven." Claude flipped to the inside cover. It read: _Brigid: Customs and Traditions for the Newcomer._

"It's written in my language," Claude remarked.

"Yes it is!" Orin laughed again. Claude turned to the table of contents and located chapter seven. It read: _Courtship and Marriage._ Claude looked up at Orin.

"Um..."

"Petra and I have always been friends. Close friends, to be sure, but just friends." He grabbed Claude's shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. "I know that you're in love with her. You may have fooled her, but you haven't fooled me. Read this chapter. She'd appreciate you adding a touch of tradition to the proposal. Might give you a better chance of getting a yes!" He guffawed, and gave Claude a bone-crushing hug. "I hope that the next time I see you, you'll have gotten yourself a fiancee!" Claude couldn't keep from grinning.

"I appreciate that, Orin. And I appreciate your hospitality, as well. If everyone in Brigid is as welcoming as you, I have high hopes for the rest of this trip."

"I cannot vouch for my fellow citizens, but it is easy to welcome someone as enjoyable as Claude von Riegan!" He laughed and smacked Claude on the shoulder. You are welcome anytime, my friend."

They climbed the staircase in high spirits. Claude was ecstatic to have the blessing of Petra's dearest friend, and he hoped the book would do as Orin hoped it would. But as Claude spotted Petra upon entering the guest room, he remembered the grim circumstances that had led them to this island. He could not let his guard down, certainly not now, as they were about to embark on the most dangerous leg of their trip. The festivities would still have to wait.

"I'm ready to go!" Petra said, standing up. "I started packing your things. Hopefully you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind. I'll finish up the rest. You two can wait downstairs if you'd like." Petra accepted the invitation and she and Orin disappeared once more beneath the trap door.

_I guess I had no reason to be jealous. I feel pretty silly now._ As he folded his night clothes, he glanced at the book sitting on the bed. _I could read a tiny bit real quick._

_Chapter Seven: Courtship and Marriage_

_It should go without saying that all women are different. But different societies have different expectations with regard to social rituals, namely courtship and marriage. This chapter will outline and describe the traditions generally associated with these rituals, as well as different ways to personalize them and make the experience unique for both parties. After all, no one wants a proposal that is simply stamped out of a mold._

"Do you need help up there?" Petra called from the stairs. Claude slammed the book closed and quickly stuffed it in his pack. He hurried over to open the door.

"Nope, I'm ready."

They both hugged Orin goodbye, and he gave Claude an almost imperceptible wink as he and Petra walked out the doorway.

"Feel free to return anytime, you two. My door is always open." Claude nodded in thanks, and hurried over to the stable to untie his wyvern. Once she was free, he pulled his whistle out from under his coat and slapped her hindquarters twice. She reared up in front of him and leapt into the air, spinning and flipping to her heart's content. Claude couldn't help but smile at how happily she flew. He blew the whistle once, and she flew up as far as she could, while still having eyes on Claude. She would follow him until he directed her not to.

He returned to Petra, who had unhooked the rope ladder and let it fall below. They both descended and began their journey to town.

"So, what should I be expecting out of these ground predators?" Claude asked quietly as they walked.

"The main one is the giant badger. They are relatively easy to subdue with some finesse, so we shouldn't need to kill any as long as they don't catch us by surprise. However, there is also a rare form of tiger that lives on the island. It only leaves its den for about an hour to hunt every day, so it is unlikely we will find one. But, if we do, we will have to be quick in taking it down. Follow my instructions if the time comes."

"Will do," said Claude, slightly nervous. "You said they're rare?"

"Oh yes, very rare. There is only a handful known to be on the island, and they hate being seen by people."

"Do you think we will be able to take one down if we have to?"

"Yes, but like I said, we would need to move fast, because the tiger is much quicker than we are."

They walked in silence for a few paces.

"Claude, there is nothing to be scared about. I promise. The probability of us seeing one is very low."

"I know. It would just be a shame to get killed on such a nice trip like this."

"Oh, Claude." Petra laughed. She linked her arm through his. "I will protect you," she said with a smirk.

The rain fell a degree lighter than it had last night; it was almost pleasant on Claude's skin, dried out from hours and hours of flying. It only took a short while for them to be pretty much soaked, though, and after that it only felt like a nuisance.

"Just how long is this hike, Petra?"

"Close to two hours from the start. Only about 90 minutes now."

"Only?" Claude asked, irritated. "This is the first piece of Brigid that I am not too keen on."

"You get used to the rain when you live here. It doesn't bother me much anymore."

"How nice for you," Claude said sarcastically. She laughed again.

"We will be there before you know it. If you'd like, there is a cabin about thirty minutes from here on the way. It is Orin's hunting cabin. We can try to wait out the rain there, or at least dry off for a few minutes."

"Yes, let's do that," Claude said, taking in his surroundings. The sky was rather dark for this time of day, making the views dim and hard to make out, and even more boring. Claude took to counting the red leafy plant that was common on the trail.

"Petra, what is this plant?"

"It is a common weed, called-" She stopped.

"Called what?" Claude asked.

"Sh!" She held her finger to her lips and pointed ahead on the trail. Twenty feet in front of them sat two huge badgers, bigger than Claude had previously thought possible, digging vivaciously in the mud.

"They are looking for food," Petra whispered. "We should be able to sneak past them. But we should go around them on either side, so that we can easily overpower them if need be." Claude nodded. Petra pointed to the right, indicating that he should take that route. He watched Petra, her eyes fixated on the badgers, and then he followed suit. They did not seem to have noticed them yet. He moved as slowly as he could, his eyes on the badgers, his hand on his dagger, his breath soft and shallow, and he had made a little headway when suddenly he heard Petra call out to him.

"Claude!" He looked over just in time to see her tackled to the ground by something large and brown. _Oh no. _She fell backwards into the tall grass, and Claude couldn't see her anymore. _No._ He began sprinting over as fast as he could when Petra popped up from the thicket ten feet further away from where she had been, and Claude could finally see that what she was battling was not a tiger, but a man dressed in brown camouflage, wielding a sword. _How did they find us?_

Claude ran persistently, still a hundred feet away, hoping that the badgers didn't decide to join the fight, and watching Petra, desperately trying to keep her alive by sheer force of will. She and the assassin were barely visible in the darkness, but Claude could tell that Petra was fighting for her life. They were trading blows and blocks every step of the way, locked into a flurry of movement that was hard to follow. _They're evenly matched. This guy is no amateur. _Claude tried desperately to pick up speed. He was almost there.

Suddenly, Petra and the assassin both cried out. Petra clutched her side, and the man groped at the side of his head, blood spurting everywhere. Petra kicked the sword from his hand and thrusted her blade into his shoulder.

"Who are you working for?" She rasped, her voice pained. The man just kept screaming in agony. "Tell me!" He kept screaming. She groaned and pulled her sword out of his shoulder, then jabbed it into his chest. "May the gods… have mercy…" She fell to her knees, then tipped backwards and fell again.

"Petra!" Claude leapt to the ground next to her. Her hand and her stomach were covered in blood. "Oh no. Petra-"

"Th-the cabin," she said, barely able to get the words out.

"Where is it?" She pointed a bloody finger into the open woods. Claude shoved one arm under her neck and the other under her legs, picked her up, and started running.


	6. Bitter Circumstances

Claude ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Petra weighed heavily in his arms, unable to hold herself up well. He watched carefully for any trip hazards or predators in his way.

"Please stay with me, Petra," he whispered. She didn't answer, but groaned in pain, still clutching her side feebly with her left hand. He scanned the horizon constantly, looking for the cabin, hoping they'd be able to get inside.

"There it is, Petra!" He beelined for the front door.

"There's a key...under the rock…" There were dozens upon dozens of rocks scattered about in front of the doorway.

"Which one?"

"It's blue." He laid her on the ground gently and turned over every blue rock he could. Finally, he found the key and unlocked the door, picking Petra back up and rushing inside.

There was a large butchering table in the middle of the room.

"Put me there." He did so.

"I need to get you help."

"No. We can't go to a doctor. They'll be looking for me there."

"We're a little past that, Petra."

"There's a first aid kit in the cabinet over there. The one in the middle." Claude hurried over and found the red satchel. "Grab a towel, too." He found a dish towel and brought that over as well.

"What do I do?" Claude's mind was moving too fast, spinning in circles. He could barely see straight.

"Put as much pressure onto the wound as you can. Don't be afraid to hurt me." Claude obeyed, using his body weight to press firmly on the wound. Petra cried out.

"I'm so sorry."

"Now press the sides of the wound together as closely as you can."

"Petra-"

"Do it!" Claude obeyed again, and Petra groaned. Tears streamed through the dirt on her face.

"There should be a threaded needle in the kit. I need you to use it to stitch the wound closed."

"I can't do that! I've never sewn anything before!"

"Please, Claude..." She began to wretch, and Claude could see blood trickling out of her mouth.

"Okay." He quickly retrieved the needle. "How do I do this?"

"For now, just get it closed. Please." He bit his tongue and stuck his needle into the end of the wound. Petra let out an agonizing groan. Claude suddenly noticed the tears falling from his own eyes. He wiped them with his sleeve, ripped off his belt and placed it in Petra's mouth for her to bite, and continued. Even with the belt, her screams were devastating. Claude held himself together until he had finally made the last stitch. Petra had gone hoarse from screaming. He felt his eyes welling up as he asked,

"How do I finish it?" Claude took the belt out of her mouth so she could answer.

"Just tie a knot as close to the last hole as you can-" And she let out another groan. Claude did as he was told, and he ripped the needle off of the thread. He grabbed the towel and wet it at the sink, then brought it back over and dabbed at Petra's wound. When she didn't cry out, he worriedly checked her pulse, but she had only passed out. Claude let out a long breath and succumbed to his tears.

He dabbed at Petra's wound between sobs, and this went on for what felt like days. Then Claude remembered that the enemy could have followed them here, so he made sure the door was locked, placed the key in a secure pocket inside his coat, and pushed a dresser in front of the door. He closed, shuttered, and blocked off the only window in the cabin as well, and only then did he allow himself to fall into the big armchair on the side of the room.

He watched Petra for a few minutes, unable to muster enough spirit to do anything else. He just watched her to make sure she was still breathing, and her breathing reminded him to breathe.

After a short while, he decided to check on her wound again. He peeled away the towel. The skin underneath was inflamed and red, and there were small spots of pus that had escaped from the stitches. _It's infected._ Petra started to stir.

"Claude?" Her voice was barely audible.

"Petra, I think your wound is infected. There's no way we can treat it here."

"We can't go to the hospital," she said, shaking her head.

"I have to do _something_," he said. He searched and searched his mind for an idea. "Is there a hospital somewhere in the outskirts of town?"

"No, there are only two, and they are both in the middle of town." Claude continued turning over ideas in his head. Then, he thought of something.

"This place is kind of close to Enbarr, isn't it?"

"It's the closest place in Brigid. Why?"

"Do you think you can hold on without me for a few hours?"

"I… I don't know. Probably. Why?"

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do before I leave to help you?"

"Just get me another wet towel. You're going to Enbarr?"

"Yes, and there's no time to explain. I will be back before the sun goes down. I promise." He hugged her and kissed her forehead, and then set to work securing the house. He found some old spears and barred the window even more with those. Then he lifted a small cabinet onto the counter in front of it and placed it in front of the bars, and filled it with heavy books from about the room. He then pulled out a flask from his coat and poured it into a bucket, which he fastened above the door with a rope. "I'm booby trapping the door. Don't let me forget when I come back." Petra offered a small laugh, which cleared a small amount of fog from Claude's heart. He kissed her head once more, and then barred the door as best as he could from the outside, locking the door securely and carefully replacing the key into his pocket.

_I can't call her so close to here._ Claude walked away from the cabin, away from town and away from Orin, for 15 minutes. Then, he pulled out his whistle and blew a short-long pattern until he saw his wyvern diving down to meet him. He quickly mounted and flew straight up. _Now, I need to make sure my route is true. _He flew up above the tree line and took a moment to get his bearings. _It should be directly this way_. It was still raining, so he didn't risk pulling out his map and ruining it. _Once I clear the storm I'll check the map to make sure. Why didn't I check it before I got out here?_ He tugged on the reins and directed his wyvern towards the mainland.

Every moment was heavy with fear and doubt. _Maybe I shouldn't have left her there._ He hoped that his traps were enough to keep any potential assassins at bay. _No, she needs medical attention. She may not have died from the wound itself, but the infection can definitely kill her. _He shook the doubts out of his head and continued on.

It was the longest three hours Claude had ever spent. He was soaking wet, worried, and angry, and he could only hope that Marianne would be able to help them. He watched desperately for the shoreline. When it finally became visible, he lightly spurred his wyvern along. _Just a little way further, girl._ He finally saw what was unmistakably the coast of Enbarr and flew straight toward the center, hoping Marianne was somewhere nearby. He landed in the large central courtyard. There were people scattered around the square, all surprised to have seen Claude barrel downward from the skies.

"Marianne von Edmund?" He asked them. They all looked at him with confusion and a tinge of fear until, finally, someone on the outskirts pointed towards a tall building behind him.

"That's where they're doing the negotiations. But they're done for the day, so you may have missed her." Claude thanked the woman and ran inside.

"Marianne!" He called out, running through the entrance hall. "Marianne von Edmund!" He ran through the back door of the hall and into a huge corridor. "Marianne!" Suddenly, he heard a call back.

"Claude?"

"Yes! Over here!" He ran towards the voice, and Marianne finally appeared from behind a door.

"What are you doing here, Claude?"

"I need your help. Please. Petra is in trouble. I don't have time to explain, but I need you to heal her. She has an infected wound. Can you help with that?"

"I can. Where is she?"

"She is in Brigid."

"Brigid! How will we get there in time?"

"I have my wyvern. I hope you're not afraid of flying."

"I'm not. Let's go." Claude led Marianne back to his wyvern. The faces in the square were still perplexed as he lifted Marianne onto the saddle and climbed up after her. He remembered his map and pulled it out to make sure they were going the right way.

"Marianne, can you keep an eye on this and make sure we're going in the right direction? Petra is on this island." He pointed to it on the map.

"I-I think I can." With a gentle kick to his wyvern, they took off towards Petra. This trip felt even longer than the first one. _What if she's already dead? What if the assassins found her, or she succumbed to her injury? _He knew the thoughts were fruitless. He tried hard to think of anything else.

"How have negotiations been going?" He asked Marianne, yelling over the loud winds.

"Very well, I think," Marianne yelled back. "My adoptive father is to get partial control of some lands surrounding Enbarr. He will be pleased."

"That's good to hear!" He gave up trying to converse.

Finally, after an eternity, the island came into view, unmistakable with its tall, red-barked trees. Claude descended just enough to make out the bridge, then flew past it towards the cabin. He descended at the point he remembered clearing the trees the first time, and sure enough, there it was. He landed behind it and pulled Marianne off of the wyvern, whistling quickly for her to take to the skies again, and he led Marianne to the front door.

It was ajar. Claude could see inside that his trap had been sprung, and there lay a dead assassin on the ground, his scalped burned from the concoction Claude had left in the bucket.

"Oh, no," Claude said. He tugged Marianne inside, stepping over the body, to find Petra, asleep and breathing, but barely.

"The wound is here," he said, removing the towel again. It had grown even more inflamed, and much more pus had seeped through the stitches.

"Oh dear," said Marianne, pulling off her gloves. "I'll need a few minutes. Why don't you sit down over there, Claude?" She motioned to the armchair. He took her advice and sat down, eagerly watching proceedings, but his eyes grew heavier and heavier, and though he fought it tooth and nail, sleep finally claimed him.


	7. Motive

Claude felt someone shaking his shoulders.

"Wake up, Claude." He slowly opened his eyes. It was Marianne. "It is done. She is asleep, but she is stable." Claude immediately rose from his seat and walked over to the butcher table.

"How did it go?" Claude noticed much more color in Petra's face than before.

"It took a while, but it was successful. It's a good thing you came as quickly as you did. I'm not sure how much longer she would have been able to fight it herself." Claude rested his hand on Petra's. It was slightly warm and very rough.

"Thank you so much, Marianne. I don't know what we would have done without you."

"It was my pleasure. If you don't mind, I'd like to stick around until she wakes up."

"Of course. I wonder if Orin has any tea lying around..." Claude checked the cabinets and sure enough, there was a small selection of tea. He chose one that smelled like oranges, filled the kettle, returned it to the stove, and turned on the heat. "So negotiations went well?"

"Yes, very. My family's territory will almost double in size from the new Empire territories."

"That's good to hear. How are the territories getting divvied up otherwise?" Claude wondered if there were any other old friends at the negotiations.

"House Martriz, Mercedes' family, is gaining a good amount of territory, as well as House Galatea."

"Ingrid's family! That will be huge for them.

"Yes, they are almost tripling in size, plus the land is much more valuable than the land they previously owned."

"That's wonderful to hear. So she reconciled with her father?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. It was her father who was there for negotiations." Claude scratched at his forearm. The kettle began to whistle, and Claude rose to prepare the tea.

"So you haven't heard anything from her?"

"No, I haven't. I don't know where she went after the Battle at the Caledonian Plateau." _I hope she returned to her family. I never meant to break them apart. _Claude finished preparing the cups and brought them over to the side table by the couch to steep. After taking a sip, Marianne spoke.

"So, Claude, I thought you were headed to Almyra after our goodbyes. If I may be so bold, were you lying to us?" Claude almost choked on his first sip of tea. He fought to conceal it, which resulted in a cumbersome tickle in the middle of his throat.

"I did not lie to you. I intended to go straight to Almyra to get settled in and such. I just- _ahem._" He cleared his throat, but the stubborn tickle remained. "I decided to pay Petra one last visit. She hadn't joined us in Derdriu for celebrations and I felt we needed a more proper goodbye." Marianne took a sip, and she had an interesting twinkle in her eye.

"Ignatz left early. And Ingrid, of course. But you didn't feel the need to visit her?"

"I told you, I don't know where she is."

"You didn't bother finding out?"

"Hey! I resent the implication that I do not care for Ingrid."

"I do not believe you don't care for Ingrid. I believe that you care very deeply for Petra." Claude's jaw dropped.

"How did you-"

"Oh, please." She giggled. "It was just as obvious back then as it is now."

"Please, don't say anything to her. The reason I came here instead of Almyra was to propose to her." Claude felt his cheeks flush. "I literally turned around mid-flight." Marianne smiled the biggest he had ever seen her smile.

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Oh, good, then your secret will be safe with me, as well," Claude chided. Marianne's brow furrowed.

"My secret?"

"Oh yes, Marianne. Don't think I didn't notice the longing glances, the rosy cheeks-"

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"Tell me, Marianne, how is Ignatz doing these days?" Her eyes went wide. "He left to travel and pursue his art, correct?"

"Y-yes, I believe so. I mean, that is what I heard."

"So you haven't heard from him since?" She began to blush.

"I have sent him a couple letters…"

"And he hasn't responded?" She tried to hide her blooming smile.

"Yes, he has responded."

"Good. Just checking." He suppressed an equally large grin and settled for a smirk. "It's nice to see you so happy, Marianne." She looked down at her tea in embarrassment,

Just then, they heard Petra stirring on the table. They both hurried to her side.

"Petra? Are you awake?" Claude said softly. She didn't answer for a moment, and then feebly answered,

"Yes."

"Petra, do you remember what happened?" Marianne chimed in.

"No… wait, yes! Oh-oh no…" She groped at her side, fussing with the bandages, and started to sit up.

"Whoa there, Petra. You should probably take it easy." She stopped and looked at him. "Marianne fixed you up. You're going to be okay."

"What?" Petra finally turned to look at Marianne. "How did you get here?"

"Claude flew to Enbarr to get me. He saved your life." Petra's mouth opened in disbelief.

"You flew all the way to Enbarr to save me?"

"Oh, it wasn't nearly so cavalier. There was lots of crying and praying involved. I'm not usually a praying man, Petra. You did this to me!"

"From the bottom of my heart, Claude, thank you for doing that." Petra turned to face Marianne as fully as she could in her position. "And thank you, Marianne, for saving my life. You went with Claude at a moment's notice because he told you I was in trouble. That is an extraordinary thing to do."

"Oh, I'm sure you would have done the same for me," remarked Marianne. Petra had on a grateful expression, but there was a slight darkness in her eyes that only Claude noticed.

"Of course." Petra fidgeted in her bindings. "How long must I rest before I can get back on my feet?"

"I should probably observe you for the night to make sure the infection doesn't return. But if you're feeling better tomorrow morning, I don't see why you couldn't return to your normal routine."

"That is good news, I suppose." Petra tried to smile, but settled back into a frown. Claude spoke up.

"I know you wanted to get into town as soon as possible, but you should listen to Marianne. I don't want you to reinjure yourself."

"Perhaps we can go to town tonight? Marianne can stay with us there. You'll have to check us into the inn, though. I shouldn't be seen." Petra glanced at Claude meaningfully.

"Marianne, does that sound okay?"

"Yes, that should be fine. We should take it easy on the walk, there. Or maybe we should fly?"

"That's not a bad idea. Petra, is there a less conspicuous stable we can take my wyvern to?" Petra sighed.

"Yes, I think there is. We should go during the cover of nightfall, then. The inn I have in mind has a runway and a stable. But we need to lay low."

"Yes, of course. It's already pretty dark now. Would you like to wait even longer?"

"No, this is the perfect time, since your wyvern is white. She won't show up against the sky as much. Marianne, are you ready to go?"

"Yes. I didn't bring much."

"Perfect," said Petra. "Our baggage is still packed and on her back. Let's go."

Claude flew within the treeline, as usual. _It will be very hard for anyone to see us between all of the branches and leaves, all the way up here. _He listened carefully to Petra's directions, her voice still pained from her surgery.

"Start your descent once we reach that bridge." She motioned to a large rope bridge connecting two of the more massive redwood trees, each with a lookout tower built into the trunk. "The inn has a conical blue roof. It's very hard to miss." After a few minutes, Claude spotted the distinctive roof and quickly located the runway, built between two nearby trees. It was a nice, long one, and illiticed a much smoother landing that at Orin's abode. A security guard approached to greet them. He said something in Brigidian.

"Good evening, sir! My apologies, but I only speak the language of Fódlan."

"No problem at all! Just parking, or will you be staying?" Claude jumped off and stepped forward, drawing his attention away from Petra.

"We would like to stay, if there is a vacancy."

"Of course! How many rooms?"

"Just one, if there is a three bed option?"

"We do have a vacancy in one of our triple suites! We just need a name for the bill."

"My name is… Lorenz. Lorenz von...Ed...velg." _That was not so smooth._ The guard did not seem to notice, however, and led Claude downstairs to the front desk, leaving Petra and Marianne to tie up his wyvern.

Once they reached the front desk, a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman greeted Claude with a plastered on smile.

"Hello! I would like to book a night in your triple suite."

"Wonderful! You've come a long way, judging by your voice. What brings you to Brigid?" As she spoke, she flipped through a large, leather-bound book.

"I wanted to finally see her beauty for myself. And I have not been disappointed!"

"I'm happy to hear that! Ah, here, room 304 is available. It has a wonderful view of the Kildare Falls. It is 207 gold per night. You may pay when you check out. Here is your key." She handed him a small iron key with intricate bittings. "Just go up those stairs over there all the way up to the third floor. Thank you for staying with us at the Tonnta Móra!" Claude nodded his thanks and climbed the staircase to the third floor.

Room 304 was at the very beginning of the hallway, to Claude's slight dismay. Inside were three large beds adorned in green and cream bedding. There were three small dressers across from each, as well as a chair and a mirror. There was a door that presumably led to a lavatory, and there was a charming sitting area, with plush armchairs and a coffee table which sat in front of a gigantic picture window. Claude peered outside for a moment to catch a glimpse of the Falls. The crystal blue water combined with the reds and oranges of the Wyvern Moon leaves created a spectacle that Claude felt fortunate to behold. _I can gawk later, _he reminded himself. He dropped his burden on the bed closest to the door and left again for the stables to help Petra and Marianne with the rest of their things.

Once they were all finally settled in, Marianne laid out a thick cushion on top of Petra's sheets.

"In case your wound reopens," she explained. "You take the middle bed so that we can more easily protect you if someone follows us here."

"I sure hope they don't," Claude mumbled, staring out the window. "I would hate to tarnish my memory of such a place as this."

"The Falls are truly lovely, aren't they?" Petra commented, remembering her pain as she eased herself into an armchair. "I wish we could go out to them, but I suppose that wouldn't be safe at the moment." She glanced at Claude, and then at Marianne. "You should probably go back to Enbarr tomorrow. I would hate to put you in danger."

"I appreciate that, Petra," Marianne said, carefully unpinning her hair. "But I have no problem staying for however long you need me." She began brushing her endless sky blue locks. Claude noticed Petra watching her for a moment, and then she turned back to the window and began to undo her own braids.

"Claude, we should come back here once this mess is cleared up. I'd love for you to see the Falls up close."

"Oh, that would be great, Petra. Hopefully we'll get a chance in this trip." Petra smiled, but Claude could see melancholy in her eyes. He grabbed her hand. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Between the three of us, we can definitely figure this out. Please don't worry." Petra shook her head as if clearing out the fog and gave Claude another, more sincere smile.

"I will try not to."

"Promise?"

"I promise." She kept her smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Everyone took turns getting ready for bed, with Marianne borrowing a set of Petra's sleep clothes. Claude fished out his second least embarrassing set and retired to the lavatory to change. As he changed, he turned over the details of the mystery in his mind.

_The mastermind is Brigidian, that's for sure. Fódlan has no beef with Brigid anymore, and Dagda likely doesn't view them as so much of a threat as to try to assassinate her. But what could another Brigidian want with Petra? _

"Petra, when did you announce your new foreign policy?"

"Oh, it was one or two days before you arrived. There was a grand assembly that took place in the city center on the main island."

"Then that has to be what this is all about. Right? The timing is uncanny."

"But all I announced was our new friendship with Fódlan, and the new policy that the royal family and the military would be required to learn the language. I hardly think those statements were radical." Claude shook his head vigorously, trying to pull the fragments together.

"There is always someone who will oppose an idea, no matter how reasonable it seems, right? This would be a pretty radical overreaction, but I really don't think we can ignore the timing." Petra's brow furrowed as she attempted to put the pieces together as well.

"It is true that the people of Brigid can be somewhat...minimalistic when it comes to their ideals of foreign policy," she said. " I can certainly imagine a handful of them viewing my policy as a gesture of submission, using Fódlan's power to assert our independence, instead of our own." She wrung her hands together in concentration. "Although that is certainly not the case." She looked down at her hands. Marianne spoke up.

"Is there anyone that could feel alienated or threatened by the news? Maybe a politician or noble who has openly supported opposing policies?"

"No, nothing of the sort…" Suddenly, Petra bolted upright in her chair. "I remember something. There is a group that could fit that description, I think. But they are only known by legend around here. No one supposedly has any proof of their existence. But my grandfather told me they are real." She rubbed her chin and cheeks, struggling to remember the details. "There is an alleged brotherhood called, in your language, the House of Due Diligence. They are known to only come out of the shadows when they believe the country 'has great need of them,' and they are said to be devout nationalists. I can't remember much else, but I know that they are said to reside on this island."

"That has to be it! They deemed you a threat to Brigid's way of life and came out of the shadows to intervene. It makes perfect sense!"

"It does make sense," Petra mumbled. "But it isn't much to go off of. And it doesn't explain why the sudden jump in the skill level of the assassins they sent. I'm afraid this doesn't change much." Petra sighed. Claude went back to staring out the window. After a few moments, Petra rose with difficulty.

"We have made great progress today. Let's get some rest and hope that it provides us with insight."

No one slept well that night, but they were undisturbed by the outside.


	8. The Hunt

Claude awoke with a start. He immediately surveyed the room, but nothing was out of place. I'll never get used to this constant dread. And I think I'm okay with that. Petra was still asleep, and Marianne was sitting at her vanity, pinning up her light blue locks. He changed into his day clothes, sat down at his desk, and let out a long sigh.

"Shall I secure us some breakfast?" He tipped back in his chair and stretched out his arms.

"That sounds great," said Marianne, putting the finishing touches on her hair. Claude pulled on his boots and exited the room. He took one last look at Petra before closing the door. I hope she's doing better today.

Claude made his way downstairs and followed his nose to the dining hall. There were plates of food sitting on a warming table, ready to be brought upstairs. Claude grabbed a large wooden serving tray and placed three plates of food onto them, then grabbed three glasses of orange juice (I can't believe this is just available all the time here) and lugged the tray upstairs. Unable to open the door himself, he knocked and called for Marianne. She helped him inside.

Petra was awake, sitting up in bed. She was inspecting her wound.

"Petra you must stop touching it," chided Marianne. "It is still healing. My magic only sped up the process."

"I'm sorry. Maybe some food will distract me!" Claude delivered a plate and a goblet to each desk and they all dug in. Claude had forgotten his hunger again, and he quickly devoured his meal without so much as a sip of juice. Upon realizing this, he took his cup to the sitting area and sipped while he watched the water tumble over the falls.

"Thank you for breakfast, Claude," Petra murmured a few minutes later. She joined him at the window, easing herself gingerly into an armchair.

"How are you feeling today, Petra?" Claude asked between sips.

"Better than yesterday. And also worse, in a way. I was too distracted by the commotion after Marianne healed me that I couldn't really feel the full brunt of the pain. Today, I am much less distracted."

"But I am sure that you are feeling better than before Marianne arrived."

"Yes, of course. Thank you again, Marianne."

"I was happy to help," she replied with a grin. Petra's countenance remained neutral. She seemed to be lost in thought. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, I really am feeling much better, Marianne. I think we should get you back to Enbarr." Claude scoffed.

"Petra, if you think you're going on a trans-oceanic flight in your state, then you must still be woozy from the blood loss."

"Oh, I can take a boat back," Marianne commented, and rose from her chair. "As long as there is one that will take me. I probably should be getting back."

"Is there one, Petra?"

"There are usually a couple boats setting sail for Fódlan. I'm sure we could find someone to take her."

Claude frowned. "Petra… I have a suspicion that someone will probably be looking for us there, a hub of transportation. It only makes sense."

Petra's brow furrowed. "You may be right…" Then, a subtle smirk appeared on her face.

"We could set up an ambush." She let the words fill the room, and then continued. "See Marianne off. Pretend to let our guard down. But we will be ready for them. I will escort Marianne to the ship and you will follow in the shadows. We will dress you in different clothes to conceal your identity, but you'll be nearby, and if anyone attacks me, you can intervene immediately and, with some luck, we can catch the assassin alive for questioning." Petra's eyes glowed with the thrill of the hunt.

"That would be way too dangerous, Petra." Claude shook his head. "You're not fully recovered yet. You'll be strained and rusty."

"That's what you'll be there for."

"That assassin in the forest gave you a run for your money when you were operating at full capacity. How do you expect-"

"You were a hundred yards away when he attacked me, and you didn't have your bow out."

"That hardly makes up for-"

"Claude." Petra stared intensely through Claude's eyes. "We have no information. No names. No places. Nothing but stories. We need something more concrete to end this, and we clearly aren't going to find it by killing them. We need one alive. It's the only way." Claude scratched around his wrist and sighed.

"We don't even know that they'll tell us anything if we do catch one alive."

"That's a risk we simply have to take. We must try." Petra turned her gaze to Marianne. "What do you think, Marianne?" Marianne looked to Claude, then back to Petra, took a deep breath, and answered,

"I agree with you, Petra. I don't know as much about the situation as you two, but from what I've heard, and what you said about the secret organization, I think capturing one of them is the only way forward." Claude sighed again.

"You aren't worried at all about Petra's safety?"

"Of course I am. But I'll be able to heal her if it happens before I leave, and no matter what, you'll be there to help subdue the assassin, as well. And there is even a chance that no assassin will come."

"I don't find that very likely, but… I have been outvoted. I guess we will execute Petra's plan." He put a hand on each woman's shoulder. "Goddess help us."

Claude followed closely, but not too closely, to Petra (who was wearing a scarf around her head in an attempt to not be recognized) and Marianne as they navigated the streets towards the docks. Dressed in a Brigidian monk's hood and robes (and wondering where Petra had acquired them), he tried to appear stoic and unassuming, but his adrenaline was coursing through him and he couldn't allow himself to take his eyes off of Petra for longer than a few seconds. Occasionally stopping to browse a stall, or to pick up a coin from the road, he tried to make it appear as though he was just wandering the streets, as well, but inside his skull, his head was spinning.

He had said his goodbye to Marianne earlier. "I still can't thank you enough for all of this. I don't think Petra would be alive today without you. I seriously owe you."

"I was happy to do it. Petra is my friend, too. I hope you two can figure this out. Please, send me lots of letters and updates on the situation. I would stay longer, but my adoptive father needs me."

"No worries at all, Marianne." They had embraced, and then hurried off to prepare. He resolved to send her a letter as soon as they had caught whoever was sending the assassins.

He noticed his friends turn the corner, and he tried not to hurry to return them to view. He "accidentally" dropped his pocket watch and kicked it far in front of him. He made a show of cursing and running after it. After retrieving it, he turned the corner to find Petra and Marianne walking safely, and he allowed himself to relax slightly.

After a few more blocks and alleys, he followed them around the corner onto the road that led to the docks. He inconspicuously cased the area and found nothing out of order. He pressed on and kept his eyes peeled. Petra and Marianne reached the predetermined ship that Petra had secured. She hugged Marianne, and looked around over Marianne's shoulder. Seeming satisfied, she let go. They exchanged a few words that Claude was slightly too far away to hear, and Marianne crossed the gangplank.

As soon as the boatswain retracted the plank, Petra began walking back towards Claude to follow him back to the hotel. He rounded the first alleyway and kept an eye out for Petra. He saw her round the corner, as well. She noticed him watching her and attempted to conceal a smile. Claude was about to smile back when a basket next to Petra burst open and a man wielding two silver gauntlets leaped out and tackled Petra to the ground. Claude immediately pulled out his bow and ran towards them. Petra immediately grabbed the man's wrists and struggled to maintain her grip as the man tried to wrestle himself free.

Petra and the assassin were moving too much to get a good shot. Claude watched desperately, waiting for an opening. Suddenly, Petra let go of the man's hands and he backwards onto the ground. "Now, Claude!" Claude quickly aimed for his kneecap and took the shot. His aim was true. As the man recoiled in pain, Petra kicked one of the gauntlets from his hand. Claude finally caught up and threw himself onto the man's other arm.

"Not...so...fast…" He yanked the other gauntlet off and the man tried desperately to push him off of himself, but Petra held his other arm down.

"We'd like to talk to you," she said angrily. They turned him over, bound his hands, and dragged him into an abandoned house down the alley. Petra took one last look around to see if there were any onlookers and, satisfied that there were none, she closed the door and locked it.

Claude produced several vials from his coat and placed them on the small table they had set up near the chair. He then pulled up his own chair backwards in front of the man and sat down directly in front of him, resting his chin and hands on the back of the chair. Petra sat in a chair to the side of the man for support in case things went south.

"We just have a few questions," Claude stated. "We need to know who ordered you to kill Petra, and where they are now. And, if there's time, we'd like to know why."

"You are not getting any information out of me," the man spat. Claude smiled.

"I don't want to hurt you. In fact, I don't really plan to do much more than I already have." He glanced meaningfully down at the man's knee. "But I do have a certain set of skills that are somewhat... useful in these types of situations." Claude picked up the closest vial, containing a few ounces of a light blue liquid, and dangled it in front of the man's face.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Claude said. He turned to Petra and mouthed behind his hand,

"I've always wanted to say that!" He turned back and cleared his throat. "Your answer?" The man spat at the floor.

"Oh, good. I don't often get to use my potions. Let's start out with this one." He uncorked the vial and poured it on top of the man's head. His face initially bore a look of confusion, but Claude saw the panic start to creep into his face.

"Does it tickle?" Claude asked with a smile. He tried to shake his head, but his head instead decided to shake erratically in all directions. "Good. I wasn't sure yet. I haven't tested this one in the field." The man looked as if something awful was about to burst from his mouth. "Feel like talking yet?" He regained his composure with great effort and shook his head. "Wonderful."

Claude picked up the second vial and swirled it around. "You're going to like this one. It's one of the greatest feats of my potion-making career." Claude moved behind the man and pulled the neck of his shirt away from his back. "Brace yourself." He poured the liquid onto the man's back and he shuddered spastically. "It's not actually that cold; it only seems it. That would be impossible, due to the freezing point of the base liquid. It was quite difficult to achieve that effect. I'm very glad to see it's working."

The man writhed in his chair, trying to wipe the liquid off somehow. "It's actually quite sticky, so you won't find relief that way any time soon. If you tell me what I want to know, I'll clean it off for you!" He shook his head again and tried to stop wriggling, but he could not stop his body from reacting violently to the chill.

"Now, which one should we do next?" Claude grabbed the next two vials from the table. "I'll let you choose."

One vial held a glittery red liquid that seemed to almost be gaseous. "This is made from some of the spiciest chilies in the known world, as well as a couple other ingredients from my stores." He held up the other vial, which contained a thick, dark, purple liquid that seemed to have the consistency of honey. "This one, on the other hand…" Claude pulled the man's hat off to reveal a thick head of blonde hair. "How attached are you to all of this? Oh, and how did you feel about the itching serum from before?" The man shook his head again. "Oh, are you ready to tell us what we want to know?"

The man's eyes were as big as saucers now, but he did not say a word.

"Hm. I've changed my mind then. You're going to try both of them at the same time. It'll be more fun that way, I think." Claude motioned to Petra to come over and handed her the purple bottle. He uncorked the red one and held it in front of the man's nose, rotating between nostrils. The man's nose turned red and he began to sweat. His eyes turned bloodshot and he began coughing uncontrollably. Petra loudly uncorked the purple vial when the man shouted,

"Fine! I will tell you! Don't burn my hair off!" Claude and Petra looked at each other in surprise.

"Your...hair? That's what did it?" Claude asked, totally baffled. The man looked down and didn't answer. His lower lip jutted out ever so slightly in a subtle pout. "You're a terrible assassin."

"I know." Petra grabbed a towel and wiped the man's face for him. "I didn't even want to be one in the first place." She lifted up his shirt and wiped the cold serum from his back. As she did so, Claude reiterated his questions.

"Who ordered the hit on Petra?"

"My boss. Aengus Fitzwater."

Petra sighed. "Aengus wants me dead?"

"You know him?" Claude asked.

"Know him?" Petra shook her head and sighed again. "I...broke his heart."


	9. Preparations

"So I was right," Claude said with a frown. "It was a spurned lover." He was not overjoyed with this news.

"Well, not quite." Petra looked slightly sheepish. Her cheeks betrayed her with a hint of a blush. "When I was a child, Aegnus lived near the palace with his father, and he was always following at my heels, teasing me, hinting about marriage, that sort of thing. He was a couple of years older than me, but he acted much younger. When I left for Enbarr, he asked me to promise to write him, and before I could politely tell him 'no,' he tried to kiss me. I...slapped him."

"Oh, Petra," Claude sighed.

"And then I told him 'no, thank you.' He was angry, and confused. Actually, delusional might be the more appropriate term. He apparently had thought he was being very subtle and suave the whole time."

Claude sighed nervously.

"Poor fellow."

"Let's talk about this more later. You." She pointed to the would-be assassin, still bound and clearly frightened. "You will lead us to where Aengus is hiding." He shook his head vigorously. "Yes, you will."

"You don't understand!" He replied, fear in his voice. "If I lead you back there, he'll kill me! He promised us all he'd kill us if we failed."

"He did what?"

"He made it clear that he'd kill anyone who tried to return empty-handed. That's how he deals with men like me, who don't relish the killing as much as he does." Claude's heart sank at this news, and he began to feel sick. _I guess those assassins were dead whether Petra and I killed them or not. Doesn't make me feel any better, though._

"Then we will hold you in a safe location until he's been dealt with," Petra decided. "We can take you back to the main island afterwards. Or even to Fódlan, if you'd like."

"You...you'd really do that?"

"Of course."

"You… are a benevolent queen."

"Spread the word, if you don't mind." Petra cut the man's ties and pulled him out of his chair. "But, my friend, all of this can only happen if you lead us there safely. You'll only die if you try to escape, and it won't necessarily be by our hands, based on what you've said."

"U-understood," he answered shakily, his hands quivering. _How did a man like him become an assassin? _Claude pondered. _None of them have really felt like assassins except that in the woods. This guy was reasonably skilled, but he clearly would rather be doing something else. What is his story?_

They began their walk through the streets, laughing and joking to avoid suspicion. The man seemed to be playing along, as well, and for that, Claude was grateful. He glanced at Petra. She was still walking off-balance from the injury, but her eyes still glowed the way they had in the hotel, though slightly dimmer, and soon she had stopped walking altogether.

"Maybe...we should go back to the hotel for a night. Aengus is a very skilled swordsman, and I am still not feeling like my normal self."

Claude was happy to oblige.

"Another night of rest should do you some good. Let's go back."

They returned to the hotel and entered through the back, circumventing the front desk. Once they reached the room, Petra turned to Claude and said,

"Can I speak to you? Privately?"

Claude glanced at the man, who did not seem the type to jump out of a third story window to his freedom, and followed her outside the door, closing it behind them.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"He could try to escape during the night."

"Hm… I guess that's true. But he knows that if he escapes he is going to have two very powerful targets on his back. He can't go back to their headquarters, or whatever it is."

"He could have been lying about that." She picked at a piece of her hair in her hands, and glanced up at the ceiling. "Though I believe he's trustworthy, at least for our purposes, we shouldn't take unnecessary risks. Maybe we could tie him to his bed. Although he could easily get out of that… Why don't we tie him to you?"

Claude cleared his throat in surprise. "Me?"

"He'll wake you up if he tries to escape."

"Why can't we tie him to you?"

"Because I'm injured. He could try to exploit that."

"I guess I can't disagree. We'll bind our wrists together. But we'll have to push our beds next to each other. I am NOT sharing a bed with him."

"Totally understandable," Petra said, badly concealing a giggle. "How about you go downstairs, get us some food, and we can relax for the rest of the night?"

Claude returned with bowls of stew, crusty bread, and coffee for the three of them. They allowed the man to eat unshackled, but kept their weapons nearby, just in case.

"How did you get involved in this group anyway?" Asked Claude, genuinely curious. "You don't seem to be enjoying the life of an assassin." The man continued to stare down at his food, but glanced up slightly, raising his eyebrows.

"You can tell us. It's not like it'll make your situation any _worse_."

The man finished chewing, sighed, and responded.

"My father was a part of the group. So was his father. Everyone who is in the House is descended from one of the original families. I'm not sure how many there are, but it's quite a few." He took a sip of coffee. "I was pressured by my father to join. He was killed a few months ago on a job. It was so foolish." He swallowed slowly and stared at his food for a moment. "I hope you really can take Aengus down. Maybe the others will disband if he dies."

"How are the families related, besides having been there for the conception?"

"They aren't, really. There are tradesmen, pickpockets, warriors-"

"Military?" Claude interrupted.

"Yes, some."

"Like you?" Claude asked. The man's eyes went wide.

"You speak my language. Did you really expect us not to notice?" The air in the room became charged. The man tensed up. Petra looked sideways at him.

"You're one of my guard?" She asked plainly.

"...Yes. I am usually stationed at the embassy on this island. But you don't visit here very often. It's quite a boring post."

"How could one of my own soldiers attempt to fulfill a contract on my life?" Petra sat forward and laid a hand on her blade's hilt.

"Let me explain! Please! I didn't want to take this job, or any job! I hadn't been on a job yet. Aengus noticed, and grew impatient. He forced me to take this one."

"He sent you to your death," Claude finished. Petra relaxed in her seat again.

"That's awful," she muttered, staring out the window. "He didn't seem capable of that when I knew him. It's clear that he's not the bumbling, nervous boy from back then."

"He certainly does not come across that way," he replied.

"What is your name?" Petra asked. He hesitated for a moment, but replied,

"Tighe."

"And what would you prefer to be doing with your life, Tighe?"

"I...haven't thought of it." He looked down.

"Yes you have." He turned to the side.

"You'll think me a fool."

"If I do, I won't say so out loud. Now go on."

Tighe sighed. "I want to be a knight. I want to serve the Queen. You, Petra. Although you probably won't trust me after this. But it could be another leader; it doesn't matter to me. No offense."

Petra smiled. "None taken."

"I long for some honor in the rest of this life. Espionage and crime just don't cut it for me. They got my father killed. They have gotten countless others killed. Good people, some of them. I don't wish for that, nor do I wish it on the children I hope to have someday." His voice began to catch, and his eyes began to redden. "If you two really mean what you say, you've given me a way out. I never thought that was possible, in my wildest dreams. I must thank you for that."

"Tighe, we meant what we said. And we still do." Claude passed him a handkerchief. "And if you do what _you_ said you'd do, I promise we will return you to safety."

"Although…" Petra began. Both pairs of eyes darted towards her. Panic gripped Tighe's face. "It will be hard to ensure his safety while we are infiltrating Aengus's headquarters. We certainly can't take him with us, either." He relaxed slightly, and Petra turned to face Claude. "What if we fly him back to Orin? He can show us the way, maybe draw us a map of the inside?" At this, she glanced at Tighe, whose face had settled on confusion. He nodded. "Then we can fly him to the treehouse and come back here by ourselves. It will be much safer than leaving him here at the hotel."

"That's true. What do you think, Tighe?" Tighe breathed heavily and steadily. His nostrils flared.

"Are you sure I'll be safe there? Who is this Orin?"

"He is my oldest friend," Petra replied with a warm grin. "He will take care of you. He is an excellent cook and, if the need arises, a strong fighter. There is no safer place on this island."

"Then...let's do that." Petra turned to Claude, who nodded.

"It's settled then," she declared.

"Only, can we do it tonight?" Tighe asked, his voice wavering. Petra furrowed her brow and frowned.

"Why?"

"I…" He sighed. "I'm scared. I'm scared he'll find us here and kill me before you guys even wake up. I'm scared he'll see me through the window." He shook his head and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "And I haven't had a good, home-cooked meal in, well, I don't know how long." Claude could see the excitement behind his fear.

"Do you think that would be okay, Petra?"

She looked him up and down suspiciously. Then she sighed, her muscles relaxed, and she smiled again.

"If you'd like, we can do that." Tighe let a tiny smile escape, the first one that Claude and Petra had seen from him, and Claude couldn't help but smile back, though he was still wary.

_I seriously hope you aren't lying to us._

Tighe led them through the labyrinth streets of the city, subtly pointing out landmarks for them to follow, until finally, they found themselves on a largely abandoned street, with no shouting merchants or playing children to be found.

"It's the last house on the left, just before the dropoff into the bay," Tighe whispered, nodding his head towards the building in question. "They operate through the bottom floor, so you'll need to sneak in through the top and find your way down. There is a door with a red handprint on it. Sneak through, and immediately to your left there will be a grate leading into a crawl space. It is only there to be used to sneak out if the base is infiltrated, so as long as you stay undetected, there should be no one bumping into you. I have already drawn a map for you-" He pulled a piece of parchment out of his breast pocket and handed it to Petra. "If you follow these instructions exactly, it will take you to the center of operations, which is where Aengus usually is. Aengus prefers to work alone, so if there is anyone else in the room with him, just wait a few minutes and he will order them out." He pulled his hood further over his face.

"Now, let's get out of here before we are discovered."

Within the hour, the three of them were on their way to Orin's. Petra navigated as Claude steered through the forest, and Tighe sat in total awe at his first flight, craning his neck to see as far away as he could. Every twist and turn was something new and exciting, and Claude couldn't help but feel gratified, but in the back of his mind, he was still uneasy.

_How can we be sure he doesn't mean to double-cross us? My heart tells me he is telling the truth, but how do I know? _Suddenly, Petra tapped on his hand and pointed down towards the ground.

"It's Orin! What's he doing down there?" They watched as he foraged a clump of bushes, several hundred feet from his home, which had just come into view. He smiled and began to descend. Then, he spotted something huge in the brush behind him. Petra shouted before Claude had the chance to process what it was.

"It's the tiger!"

And, sure enough, mere yards behind Orin was a giant, reddish-brown tiger crouching in the thicket, ready to pounce.


	10. A Cat and Her Prey

Claude beelined straight for the ground. He knew he had no time to panic. Petra shouted in Brigidian to Orin, who spotted them and finally noticed the tiger. Pure shock gripped his face as he unsheathed his blade and began circling the creature. Petra leapt from the saddle before Claude had even landed, ordering Tighe to stay on the wyvern. Claude jumped off and whistled, and the wyvern flew up into the canopy.

Claude whipped out his bow and began following the tiger down his sights. It had switched seamlessly from stealth to aggression in moments upon being seen, and was now leaping and pouncing about, making it nearly impossible for Claude to line up a shot.

Petra seemed to know what she had to do. Claude could see her trying to immobilize the tiger. Orin followed suit, as well, but their blades were like kitchen knives to the massive beast. They circled the tiger from opposite sides, running, rolling, and jumping to confuse it, and Claude worked hard at keeping his breath steady and lining up a safe shot. Petra jumped in and out of the circle, taking quick swipes at the animal's tough skin, kicking at its joints, pulling on its tail; Orin tried to maintain its full attention by taking larger swings near its head and chest. Petra finally caught her blade just above its hind shoulder, and the beast stopped to roar in pain.

Claude loosed the arrow immediately, and the arrow embedded itself into the opening Petra had created. Petra rolled towards its front legs and wounded it identically on its fore shoulder. Claude grabbed for another arrow, but he only found the leather of his quiver. He glanced back and saw that he had dumped his arrows onto the ground when he had dismounted. Before he could begin to despair, an arrow penetrated the tiger right through the second opening Petra had made. Claude turned around and spotted Tighe, wielding Petra's bow and grasping a handful of Claude's arrows. Claude nodded, and Tighe nodded back resolutely. Petra and Orin were able to overcome the beast while Claude and Tighe ran forward to meet them.

"Nice to see you, Orin." He spoke breathlessly, watching to be sure the tiger didn't cause any more trouble.

"Even more so for me," Orin responded, helping Petra finish tying a muzzle around its mouth. "I owe you my life."

"I'm just glad we came when we did," Petra commented, tying the knot off and inspecting their work. "Now, how to get it upstairs…"

"Upstairs?" Claude asked.

"We must tend to its wounds," Petra answered. "We did not need to kill it, but it would be almost as bad to leave it out here in this state."

"Oh… I suppose that's true." Claude looked up at his friends. "I was worried about you two."

"I was, too," Orin admitted. "But we needn't be anymore." He smiled.

Petra turned at Tighe.

"Didn't I tell you to stay on the wyvern?"

"You were in danger. I needed to help." His face showed determination. Petra grinned.

"And you did."

Claude smiled, but then frowned again. "How are we going to get this thing up into your treehouse?"

"I'm not so sure we can." He glanced at the rope ladder. "We can tend to its wounds down here. I can't imagine we will be in much danger, considering the largest danger has already found us." Orin's laughter boomed through the trees, and Claude began to feel at ease again.

"That's true," said Petra. "I will retrieve the supplies. You two, try to drag the tiger closer to the bottom, but be sure not to hurt him."

Claude suddenly remembered Tighe, and whistled to his wyvern to bring him back down. She landed elegantly next to them, eyeing the tiger, and Tighe jumped off of her back excitedly.

"That was amazing! I thought you guys were dead! Aengus has no idea what he's in for!" He threw his fists into the air, jumping around and shouting.

"Aengus?" Orin asked, looking at Claude. "Aengus Fitzwater?"

Claude hesitated. "Yes. Do you know him?"

Orin laughed, although this time it was subdued, even melancholic. "I know him well enough to know that's not his true name."

"Really? What is it?" But just as Claude asked, Petra dropped down the last couple rungs of the rope ladder, supplies in hand, and the four of them spent the better part of an hour patching the poor tiger's wounds.

Petra finally wiped her bloody hands with a damp rag. "I think we have reached the limits of our capabilities. He will need some time to heal, but he will need to find it out there." Orin tugged on Claude's sleeve and motioned for them to ascend the ladder. Once everyone was safe on the landing, Petra removed the tiger's bonds and hurried up herself. The tiger stood gingerly, testing each foot carefully, and looked up at them. It blinked long and slow at them, which seemed to Claude like a "thank you," and then sprinted off into the forest, as though it had never been injured at all.

"Was that your first time doing that?" Claude asked, mouth still open in amazement.

"Yes," Petra answered, still staring at where the tiger had been. She shook her head and looked at Orin.

"We need your help. Our friend here, Tighe, needs a safe place to stay."

"I'm sure we can work something out. Come in, come in. I'll make tea!"

Orin would not discuss until everyone had a cup of tea in their hands.

"Now, what's this about a place to stay?" He looked at Tighe, who clasped his hands together, took a deep breath, then unclasped his hands and laid them in his lap. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"If I may-" Petra glanced at Tighe, who nodded. "You may have noticed me acting strangely last time we were here. There have been assassins coming after me for some time now-"

"Assassins?!" Orin set down his tea. "Petra, why would you hide this from me?"

"We didn't know where they were coming from, and I knew you'd immediately spring into action and endanger yourself, and I didn't want you to do that before we knew who was sending them."

"And?"

"We figured out who was sending them."

Orin sighed. He reached for his tea again. "Aengus."

Petra sighed as well. "Yes," she said sheepishly. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. So he's still in love with you, huh?"

"I am unsure. Our friend Tighe here has revealed that Aengus is the new leader of the House of Due Diligence."

"You're kidding."

"He has ordered my head."

Tighe finally spoke up. "He knows how powerful Petra is, how strong a fighter. He only sent weak men at first. He was just trying to spook you, to send you a message. But something made him up the ante. I'm not sure what."

"So he's become a monster." Orin downed the last of his tea and turned to face Tighe with his entire body.

"Now, how exactly did you learn this information?" His eyes narrowed. Tighe gulped.

"I was...in the House. I was a member." Orin didn't blink. He didn't speak. Tighe's breathe quickened. He glanced at Petra, then at Claude, and back to Orin, who was still staring. "I was personally ordered to kill Queen Petra. She and Claude were merciful enough to capture me alive. I owe them my life." He looked at Claude with the smallest hint of a grateful smile through his terrified trembling.

"Petra? This is true?"

"Yes. We subdued him after his failed assassination attempt, and questioned him nearby. He agreed to tell us everything he knew in return for his safety."

"How can you be sure that he is trustworthy?" Claude took a moment to consider his answer.

"We can't, really," he replied, slowly. Tighe held his breath. "But my gut tells me he is telling the truth. He says he dreams of becoming a man of honor someday. A knight."

"An easy way to get close to his enemy," Orin said through gritted teeth, shifting his glare sideways.

"He could have killed us well before now, but he hasn't. Aengus has promised to kill him if he returns without Petra's head, and yet he saved us all from that tiger. Besides, he has no choice but to trust us, given his circumstance."

Orin leaned back, and turned away from Tighe. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I think you are right. I will let him stay here." He rose and approached his closet. He opened the door and pulled out a silver sword, securing it to his belt. He pulled out two daggers and secured those, as well. "I will keep all well-meaning tenants safe. But, do bear in mind that if I ever sense that you are no longer well-meaning, all bets are off. Understand?" Tighe nodded vigorously.

"Yes, yes, absolutely. I promise I won't threaten your peace." Orin sat down, smiled, and seized a ginger snap from the plate in front of him.

"Wonderful. The guest rooms are on the top floor."

Claude and Petra said their goodbyes again, and sauntered soberly towards the stable, where they had led his wyvern just before Petra had set the tiger free. There she stood, majestic and beautiful, and, for some reason, Claude was sad to look upon her. Petra grabbed his hand and turned his face toward hers.

"Something is bothering you. What?" Her gaze was intense, as usual, but there was an unusual softness in her eyes.

"I've always returned before. She has no reason to expect that I won't. I can't tell her how much danger I'm putting myself in." He laid a hand on the top of the wyvern's head. She snorted in response. "Who will take care of her if I don't make it back?" He stroked the top of her head, and she leaned into his touch, snorting again out of pleasure.

"What is your wyvern's name, Claude? I just realized you never told me."

"Her name is Theodosia." She repeated the name under her breath and laid a hand on Theodosia's head, as well.

"If you died, I would take care of Theodosia for you." She said, matter-of-factly. "If I died with you, Orin would take care of her. But even if there was no one else, she would be okay. She is a strong, intelligent beast. She would find her way." She removed her hand and stepped in front of Claude. "But my heart tells me that we will succeed. We will end Aengus's reign of terror." Her eyes burned again, just like before. "We will not be dying tomorrow. Do you understand?" She stared into his eyes, and Claude looked back. He noticed the lines in her irises. "Do you?"

He returned. "Yes."

Still staring at him, she sighed, and put her arms around his waist, pulling him towards her. Claude's heart rate picked up, but then she rested her head on his shoulder. His blood pressure slowed again, but he smiled nonetheless. They remained that way for quite some time.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Petra said after a long moment. She released him and looked up at Theodosia. "Neither will she. Together, we will keep you safe." She smiled at the wyvern, then pulled herself up onto her back in one swift motion. She extended a helping hand towards Claude.

"Shall we end this, once and for all?" Claude grabbed her hand and pulled himself up, a newfound fire in his heart. He took a big breath and let it out slowly.

"We shall."


End file.
